


New Year’s eve at the Black Mill

by FedonCiadale



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Minor Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 09:39:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14767136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FedonCiadale/pseuds/FedonCiadale
Summary: On New Year's eve the fate of Jon, a journeyman at the mill at Blackpool will be decided.





	New Year’s eve at the Black Mill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mimiofthemalfoys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimiofthemalfoys/gifts).



> Jonsa AU. Written for jonsaexchange on tumblr for @mimiofthemalfoys.  
> This is a sorbic (a slavic minority in the region of the Lausitz in Germany) folk-tale about a character called Krabat, who becomes an apprentice of magic in a mill.... It was turned into a highly popular and classic young adult novel by Otfried Preußler (Krabat) - which has been one of my long lasting favourites since I first read it at the age of 12.  
> I think the tale is probably not that well known, even though Preußler's book was translated into several languages including English, but it fits well to the theme of legend and folktales.

_Jon ran through the trees, his breath sounding loud in his ear. He held her hand and was looking for cover. Above him, a hawk was flying with fast beats of his wings, his shrieks piercing his ears. He didn’t need to look up to know that the hawk only had one eye._

_“He mustn’t see your face”, he shouted at the girl, risking a look back. He saw that she held her hood in place with her other hand, only a small ringlet of her auburn hair had stolen out of the hood._

_They slipped into cover and Jon turned to her, careful not to focus on her face. He tugged the strand of her hair back under the hood with trembling fingers, while he held his gaze firmly at the branch of the elder where they had stopped to catch their breath. There was a rustle in the brush-wood, a mouse was peering at them. There was only a scar where its left eye should be, and Jon took her hand again and they resumed their run._

_Jon tried to set a steady pace. It was best not to stay too long in one place. He almost stumbled, when his foot met a rabbit-hole, and a fox came out of his den, his left eye only a black hole, the right eye fixed on the girl behind him… The master’s voice was in his head. ‘You could still have it both. The girl and the magic. Just make the right decision.’_

Jon woke up in a cold sweat, and yet oddly relieved. The pictures of the one-eyed animals were fading before his inner eye. He felt certain, that the girl’s face hat stayed safely hidden, both from the animals in his dream as well as any eyes who might have spied from outside into his dreams. He sat up. Long habit had him carefully avoiding bumping his head on Bran’s bed above him. _I’d best not sleep again._

Jon found his clothes in the dark, he tried not to wake the others, although their laboured and heavy breathing told him their dreams were barely less troubled when his own. _They should know better than to fret. The signs are all there. This year it’s me._ Only Bran, the apprentice boy, was sleeping soundly, his breathing went regular and deep. Jon envied his ignorance. Nevertheless, he touched the boy’s arm so that he could feel his warmth, reassuring himself that he was alive and well. With a short shudder he remembered the nightmare he had had three days ago. _Bran lying on the ground, his legs in a twisted ankle, whimpering with pain, and the voice of the master in his head. ‘Magic would come in handy, now, wouldn’t it Jon?’._

Jon made his way to the kitchen, carefully avoiding the squeaking stairs. He didn’t need light. After three years in the mill, he could find his way in the dark. When he opened the kitchen door, Sam was already there. He was tending the fire. Even today, Sam would tend the fire, bake bread, cook and run the house as smoothly as a well-built mill-wheel going round and round all year long, summer and winter. _My winter is here, this year._

Jon wondered, if it would ever be Sam’s turn, if the Master would ever decide that this year it was Sam who would be the one. Sam the Simple, as almost everybody called him. Robb had not called him that, but Robb was dead. Bran did not call him that either, imitating Jon. Jon wondered if the small apprentice who loved climbing knew that Sam was anything but simple. Bran was clever, and he knew how to play an act.

Sam arched an eyebrow, when Jon entered the kitchen. Jon looked at his fellow journeyman and wondered how he had ever fallen for the simpleton act.

Jon shook his head at the unasked question: “I don’t think he saw her.”

He let himself fall on one of the kitchen stools. “Whatever happens, this night I’m going to have a good sleep one way or the other.”

Sam frowned. “Please don’t joke about that. I’m so afraid. I wish we had had more time to prepare.”

Jon nodded. “Me, too. But I doubt you could have taught me more. You were always better than me, even if nobody knows.”

Jon smiled at his friend. “Sam the wizard,” he said.

Sam’s answering smile was very van.

“I think I should not test the Master’s boundaries today.”, Jon said. “Will you tell the girl, that today is the day?”

“I will,” Sam answered solemnly.

Jon reached in his pocket. “If you will give her this, she’ll know the message is from me.”

For a short moment he fingered the strand of auburn hair he had spun into a ring, that fit his little finger, before giving it to Sam.

Sam watched the ring. “I should be able to find her by the colour of her hair alone,” he said. “It is good, you were so careful. Where will I find her?”

“Fly to Schwarzkollm. Her house is the third on the right side, the one with the green door. She has the most beautiful voice, you’ll ever hear” His voice trailed off and he remembered how he had first heard her singing, on the eve of Easter more than two years ago, a lifetime ago. Her voice had enchanted him and had filled him with longing.

He reached out and hugged Sam. “Will you promise me something, brother?”, he asked.

Sam nodded.

“Do not push her. If she decides that she doesn’t want to risk her life, so be it.”

“You will not survive a direct confrontation with the Master,” Sam said.

“I know,” Jon said, “but then she would not have to die, if we lose.”

Sam took Jon’s hand in his own. “I promise.”, he said.

He turned to the window, but Jon held him back.

“If I die… “, he hesitated for a moment.

“If I die, don’t forget me. Don’t forget me like everyone is forgotten in this god-forsaken mill.”

“I won’t,” Sam said. “If I can, I will take up the task.” He grinned somewhat sheepishly. “I would have to find a girl, though.”

Jon laughed while Sam opened the window.

“Remember not to lose confidence. You are best when you’re confident. We practiced often enough, you can do this.” Sam said.

“I will,” Jon answered grimly.

In Sam’s place sat a raven. Jon smiled, that even in raven form, his best friend was a little plump. The bird picked up the ring of red hair and set out, his wings beating in a steady rhythm, just in the direction of the rising sun, towards Schwarzkollm.

Jon closed the window, his heart heavy. If he hadn’t unlearned how to pray in the mill at blackpool, he would pray now.

Old habit had him reach into his pocket and take Robb’s knife. He let it snap open and watched the blade, that was as black as it had been since Easter. _No reason, why it should be shiny. I’m as much in mortal danger as ever._

Since Sam was away, Jon began to lay the table. He was interrupted when the Master entered. The black eyepatch over his left eye stood out against his face, that was paler than usual. The red birthmark on his neck was clearly visible today. His hands were behind his back.

“Here you are, Jon,” the Master said. “It’s New Year’s eve today. I told you, I would hear your decision today.”

“My opinion has not changed. I won’t take your offer. I won’t become Master here at the black mill only to do as you did and kill one of the journeymen in my stead each year for the Godman.”

“I gave you a taste of what it means to have no magic. You saw what will happen to Bran.”

Jon shuddered remembering his dream about Bran.

“The future is never clear, and I won’t become a murderer like you.”

The Master shook his head. “You wouldn’t even kill Rast, would you?”

Jon just looked the miller in the eye. _Robb,_ he thought, _Jeyne his love, whom I never met, Grenn, and long ago, Ned and Cat._

“Someday you’ll have to pay for your crimes,” Jon answered. “Maybe today is the day.”

The Master barked a short laugh.

“You have a last duty to fulfil, Jon.” When he brought his hand in front of him, Jon saw that he held a shovel. He shoved it into Jon’s hand.

“There will be need for a grave on the waste plane tomorrow.”

 _Did you tell Robb to dig his own grave as well, and Grenn?_ Jon could fell anger building up and the thirst for revenge. _It would be easy to defy his order. He doesn’t know how strong I have become with Sam’s help._

Jon gritted his teeth. He shouldered the shovel and left the kitchen.

His anger carried him all the way through his grizzly task. Each time he forced the shovel in the frozen earth he though of Robb, of Grenn, his dead friends, he thought of Jeyne who had been driven to madness and drowned herself, when she could not escape the nightmares, after the Master had found out who she was, how she was called. He fought of Ned and Cat whom he only knew about because Sam had told him about them. In Sam’s early days at the mill, Ned had tried to take down the Master, and Cat had come on New Year’s eve. She had begged the Master to release Ned in the name of their love, just like the black book stated it should be done. But the black book was not very specific, and the Master had set the conditions.

_‘Do you know your sweetheart?’ the Master had asked. Cat had been confident. ‘I know him well’. But then the Master had turned them all into ravens, he ordered them to put their beak under the right wing. Cat had failed at recognizing her love in raven form. Both had died the same night._

_It won’t be like that today… I trained with Sam. I’ll put my beak under the other wing. I just have to resist obeying for a short time…. just enough time that she’ll see._

****

Poor Bran! He had no idea why all the journeymen were so tense this New Year’s eve. Rast went into a fit, when he realised Sam was not there and that they had to prepare the evening meal themselves. He shouted at Bran and would have hit the boy, if Jon had not shoved him away. He wanted to scream. _None of you needs to be tense, it’s me. It’s me!_ But he could not say it aloud.

It had been dark for quite some time when Sam finally came back. There had been snowfall the whole day and Jon wondered, if their journey had been hindered by the master.

The girl trailed behind him, and Jon felt as if a fire had been lit in the room, and he felt warmth in his heart. He rushed to her side and took her hand. “You’ve come”.

She just nodded solemnly, her eyes smiling. The journeymen were staring. Her red hair flowed freely around her head. Some snowflakes still stuck to it and became shiny drops when they melted.

She raised her voice. “Master Miller”.

The Master stepped out of the black chamber, his right eye burning. His whole posture was threatening but the girl squared her shoulders and refused to be intimidated.

“It is New Year’s eve, Master Miller of the blackpool mill. As is the custom, I’ve come to beg freedom for one of your journeyman.”

“And who would that be?” the Master asked.

“Jon whom I love.” She answered.

“But do you know him?” The Master scoffed. “He doesn’t even know your name. You will die, before he even knows your name.”

“He doesn’t need my name to love me,” she answered.

“We will see if you know him.”

He looked around at the journeymen. “Go, into the black chamber, all of you. There you line up.”

The twelve journeymen did as they were told. Sam took the time to briefly press Jon’s hand that were coated with cold sweat.

They lined up in the black chamber just like they did every Friday evening, when the Master taught them the dark magic from the black-red book. Jon expected to be changed into a raven. He steeled himself to disobey the Master.

The Master entered leading the girl by the hand. She was tightly blindfolded, and Jon was suddenly overcome with a fear so visceral that he felt as if his blood plummeted to his feet and he feared he would pass out.

“A noise from you, and she dies”. The Master held a dagger to her throat.

“Now, they are all lined up. Just point him out to me.” he addressed the girl.

Jon’s thoughts were twirling in his head and he tried to come up with a solution. He had not expected that! If he would make a noise, the Master would kill her. There was no sign he could give her.

Desperately he looked at her as she passed the line of the journeymen in measured strides. Slowly she went back and forth the line, seemingly oblivious to the Master’s dagger at her throat.

_She will die because of me! Robb was right. We journeymen from the Blackpool mill mean ill luck for the girls. It was all for nothing, all the training, Sam preparing me, all for nothing. She is going to die, she is going to die. I wish I had never listened to her singing. It would be better, if I had never talked to her, if I had never met her._

His eyes filled with tears. She stopped just in front of him. She raised her finger and pointed directly at him.

“That is Jon,” she said.

“Are you sure?”, the Master asked.

“Yes, this is my choice,” she answered.

The dagger fell from the shaking hands of the Master and to Jon it seemed as if time had stopped.

She took the blindfold from her eyes. A smile was blooming on her face, and her face lit. She took his hand.

“You are free,” she said. “Let’s go.”

“Fetch your belongings and leave the mill.” Sam called out to all the journeymen who stood frozen. “We have to be gone before midnight. We can spend the night at the smith’s barn in Schwarzkollm.” In a corner of his mind Jon registered that Sam must have been confident on the outcome if he had arranged for their night.

None of the journeymen even looked at the master who seemed to have shrunk and leaned at the wall, as if he could not stand by himself. He would die at midnight. The godman would fetch him, him, the black book and the mill. All would go down in fire.

Jon let himself be led out of the room and outside in a daze. She smiled at him, never letting go of his hand, but putting on her hood with the other hand.

They took the path through the forest and when they reached the fox’s den Jon had seen in his dreams this night, he stopped. The fox that hid when he heard them come had two eyes.

“How did you know me?” Jon finally asked. “I was sure I had led you to your death.”

“You were afraid,” she answered. “Not for yourself, but for me. That’s how I knew it was you.”

“I dreamed of walking here, with you, but in my dream, it was spring.”

“I know. I dreamt the same dream. I think it was a sign for us to hope.”

Jon felt as safe as he had never felt in his life and her smile was filling his heart with joy. The loss of his magic was nothing if weighed against her smile and his freedom.

“When we reach my home and I introduce you to my parents and my sister, you’d better know, how to call me,” she said. Her eyes were twinkling with suppressed laughter.

“I am Sansa.”

“Sansa,” Jon said. Her name had a pleasant sound and he liked to let it roll of his tongue. “Sansa,” he repeated.

“Sansa, the singer, Sansa, my saviour”, he leaned down and kissed her, oblivious to the snow falling gently around them.


End file.
